


Kinkformers 2020

by Kiyuo_Honoo



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Dubious Consent, Femdom, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knotting, Multi, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vagina Dentata
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyuo_Honoo/pseuds/Kiyuo_Honoo
Summary: It's that time of the year and the kinky robots are back.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Fortress Maximus/Prowl (Transformers), Slipstream/Thundercracker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73





	1. Day 1: Rodimus/Mystery Mech - Sticky & Stuck in a Wall

It was all Brainstorm’s fault. And now here Rodimus was stuck in the wall of one of the few deserted and underused hallways. “Can you check this out, promise it’s nothing bad. Promise I didn’t make it, Rodimus. Fragger’s a _liar_.” Rodimus grumbled, shifting slightly from where he was balanced on his ped tips since that was the only way he was able to get into the hole as he was.

He shouldn’t have tried to pull himself through, that’s what got him stuck in the first place. Spoiler got through fine but now he was stuck, feeling around his waist revealed the wall apparently _shrunk_. Rodimus was well and truly stuck and to make matters worse his comm had been malfunctioning all day so he couldn’t even comm someone to come get him out.

Preferably Brainstorm so he could rant at the scientist for getting him into this situation in the first place. Now Rodimus was stuck waiting to see how long before someone noticed he wasn’t around. Or for Brainstorm to check in and hopefully not forget.

He was tapping the wall in boredom when a noise grabbed his attention. Pausing in his tapping, Rodimus craned his head back to look behind him, even though he wouldn’t be able to actually see if anyone was back there due to the wall.

Having to attune his audials to hear Drift least he get the slag scared out of him, he was able to hear the slight shifting of plating as a mech walked behind him. Wait — Rodimus choked as _claws_ dragged along his spinal strut and causing him to shiver at the touch. Okay, _that_ was not what he was expecting.

The claws stopped at the curve of his lower back, and his plating ruffled as the mech’s other hand made itself known by dragging those claws up his side and around to his back before both were dragged down to score lines into his aft. Primus, the mech was leaving scrapes already.

Rodimus shuffled precariously on his ped tips only to let out a strangled noise as one of those hands scratched down to his thigh and heft his leg up. He pressed his hands against the wall to keep from falling forward and get stuck dangling without the little leverage he already had.

Even as Rodimus tried to flail his leg, his other thigh was gripped and left as well, allowing the unknown mech to slot between his legs and press their panels together. He could feel heat creep up his faceplate at the burning coming from the other mechs panel. _Someone_ was excited. Rodimus bit his lip and wiggled, letting out a low noise as their panels rubbed together.

The points of those claws made tapping motions across his thigh to his panel, dragging lines around his panels. It only took those claws digging into the cables of his hip joint to trigger his valve panel open.

Rodimus tensed with narrowed optics, whoever the mech was better not get the idea that he was _easy_ , he was far from it, but there weren’t a lot of mechs Rodimus knew that could keep either panel closed after having certain cables in their hip joint tweaked with (he would know, he’s done it more than once on accident, mostly with himself, but with a few others on some memorable occasions).

His thoughts were quickly derailed as those claws dragged up his valve lips, pausing to tweak a claw over his node before dragging back down. And the mech just _kept doing that_ , it didn’t take long before Rodimus was panting against the wall as his valve dripped lubricant down his thighs and against the mech’s panel.

Primus, he was _ready_ for the mech’s spike and they weren’t doing _anything_ but teasing him back there. Rodimus let out a loud groan and slapped the wall as those claws pulled away. If the mech even _thought_ about leaving him like this he was going to find out who it was and make them finish what they started.

He didn’t even get to start verbally complaining before something hot slid along his valve and just rested there. Rodimus would deny the whine that left his vocalizer if it was ever brought up, even as he shifted his hips and tried to roll against the spike that was _right there_.

Rodimus opened his mouth as the spike pulled away, whatever he was about to say quickly dissolved into a moan as that spike _finally_ slid into his valve. His calipers rippled along the decent-sized length, inner nodes snapping charge along the ridges he could feel flaring inside. Rodimus bit his thumb, it’s been a while since he’s interfaced with a mech with flaring ridges, and he definitely wasn’t complaining.

The mech was still for a few kliks before they slowly dragged their spike out. Rodimus expected the mech to go slow in, not to suddenly slam his spike back in. He let out a shriek as the spike head smashed against his ceiling node on the first thrust.

And it was just fast rutting from there.

Drool was dripping down Rodimus’s chin as he moaned with each powerful thrust that jarred his plating into loosely rattling, the mech’s claws were dug into his hips to keep him in place and to keep from hitting the wall.

He was _definitely_ dripping all over the floor at this point, and honestly? Rodimus couldn’t bring himself to care as the mech continued fragging him.

One of the claws left his hip to frame his node with two servos, they rubbed against the swollen mesh as the mech flared the ridges on their spike. The claws nicked his node as the mech pulled their hand away to grip his hip with a final slam into his valve. And that did it.

Rodimus shouted as his valve clenched and rippled, lubricant spilling around the flared spike even as transfluid spilled into him.

He went limp. Frag how uncomfortable and sore he would be later, Rodimus was just worn out from that. His audials were ringing, and he could barely hear how his armor pinged as he started to cool down.

His legs were lowered but he couldn’t find his balance with how much his legs were shaking.

He was definitely finding out who this mech was. After he got out, cleaned up, and got on Brainstorm’s case about this. After he recharged, yeah, that sounded like a plan.


	2. Day 2: Slipstream/Thundercracker - Femdom + Against a Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyberverse

Claws screeched across the rock formation as Thundercracker panted wetly against the stone. Oral lubricant dripped down his chin and dust floated up from the rock face with each exvent. The blue seeker could only shiver as purple claws dragged along his plating, one servo reaching down and scratching thin lines up his inner thigh through the transfluid coating them. The hand slipped around his thigh, servos gripping tight as it spread his legs wider and the hand on his waist tightening to the point those claws were digging into his plating.

Fangs dug into the back of his neck faring as the slow roll of the hips behind him changed, hips pulled back before slamming forward causing an echo of metal clanging and a sharp noise to leave Thundercracker’s mouth as that wonderfully long spike hit his ceiling node dead on. “S-slipstream, _please_ , I —”

“Shhhh, you’ll get your reward. Just keep making those noises for me.” Slipstream purred with a kiss to the bite mark she left. Instead of pulling out and giving the other what he wanted, she rotated her hips to grind her spike against the swollen nodes inside. Thundercracker was such a pretty package; loyal to whoever commanded him, usually quiet unless he was needlessly trying to defend his commander’s honor, and not to mention the sweet blush that tended to bloom on his cheeks.

Now if only she was able to steal him away from Starscream. Wouldn’t _that_ frag their aerial commander off.

Wasn’t that a thought?

It wasn’t the best time but maybe — Slipstream ran her hands along Thundercrackers frame, before pressing them against his abdominal plating, holding him there as she continued to grind her spike into his sopping valve. It would be her _right_ to keep him if she sparked him up. Even if he _was_ already part of a trine.

A strangled whimper pulled Slipstream’s attention away from her thoughts, back to Thundercracker. The blue seeker was shaking, knee joints locking and keeping him up. Such a good little seeker. He deserved his reward after being so good. Slipstream bit into Thundercracker’s neck faring again as she removed her hand from his hip and framed his valve, feeling how it stretched with each thrust.

Letting out a growl she dragged her claws up and pinched his node between her claw tips.

Apparently, that was all Thundercracker needed as his frame seized up with a scream that broke off into static. Charge leapt from his seams into Slipstream, and with a few more thrusts she hilted herself into his valve, filling him up.

She had to pry her denta from his collar faring after biting so hard that it dented the metal. She’d have to fix that for him or leave it as a mark to show he’s been claimed. A smile slipped onto Slipstream’s lips. Oh yes, she would leave it. Starscream wasn’t on this planet and couldn’t fight her to get him back.


	3. Day 3: Dratchet - Knotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy dub-con y'all.

Deadlock growled as the Autobot medic shoved his helm into the ground. His claws scored lines into the dirt as he uselessly tried to claw his way out from under the smaller but bulkier mech. It didn’t achieve anything. The medic was pressing down on his helm just right that servos pressed into his neck cables and kept him from doing anything stupid unless he wanted something disconnected.

It left him snarling into the dirt as his engine growled low continuously in warning, not like Deadlock could do anything about the medic, a hand had splayed across his back and the medic had shoved his knees apart to the point his balance was almost shot and any movement would have him falling flat from losing what little stability he had in that position.

The medic’s hand moved down to grip firmly at his neck, the other dragging down his back, and — Deadlock’s engine stuttered as that hand groped at his panel. What in the pit was the medic doing!? The sharpshooter was not against kicking, he had kicked a medic in the faceplate before from suddenly touching his panel without warning, and he’d do it to the Autobot too if he was able to.

The grip on the back of his neck and his position foiled that idea though.

Those deft servos felt around his panel, easily finding the manual latch and undoing it.

He bared his teeth and snarled into the dirt as those digits brushed against his valve lips. He was going to _bite him_ once he was free. Frag it being a medic and the unspoken rule of violence against medics. The Autobots medic was free game now that he got himself involved and was shooting at him.

The medic just kept massaging his bared mesh, medic strength allowed him to only need one hand to keep Deadlock pinned down, and his precarious position meant staying down or falling flat and still being at a disadvantage. Deadlock did wish the medic would _finally do something_ instead of the massaging.

It was causing a reaction Deadlock really did not want to deal with at the moment.

He bit his lip as he felt the first dribbles of lubricant seeping out his valve. A digit pressed between the lips to swipe up a bit of the glistening lubricant. Deadlock made an embarrassing noise as his fans clicked on at the thought of his own lubricant being used as an oil against his valve lips.

A rumble came from the medic behind him as those digits slipped into his valve, eased by the copious amount of lubricant pooled at the rim. Deadlock clawed at the ground, soft noises leaving his vocalizer as his hips swayed slightly. His processor was starting to fill with static. He didn’t know if he wanted the medic to stop or continue with the soft touches.

He wasn’t used to being touched so carefully.

Deadlock was a mess, his fans were running so high they were almost screeching, vents and plating as open as they could get to help with the heat building in his frame, and there was a disgusting amount of oral lubricant puddled under his chin. And all from the soft, careful movements of the medic’s servos as they stretched his valve, turning the mesh pliable and soft by the time they pulled out.

A puddle of lubricant was spread between his shaking legs, the amount seeping into his knee joints would have been disgusting if Deadlock could think of anything besides the emptiness in his valve and the mech behind him. It was almost a relief when a solid weight finally pressed against the opening to his valve and slowly starting pushing in.

He moaned as that spike slid in easily, not only from how relaxed he was and the amount of lubricant he was dripping but from the tapered tip the medic’s spike had. Primus, it felt _good_. It felt like forever until, finally, the medic bottomed out and ground his spike housing against his valve lips where they were pressed flush against the medic’s plating.

The medic held himself still beside the grinding motions for kliks, before pulling out and pushing back in. It didn’t take long before the medic found a rhythm that alternated between thrusting and hilting his spike to grind their arrays together. It also caused the medic’s spike to shift and rub against a multitude of nodes, making his valve and circuits light up.

Deep grooves had been dug into the dirt from his claws continuously flexing from the sheer amount of pleasure echoing through his frame. His optics were unfocused and moans and whimpers still spilled from his lips uncontrolled.

The medic’s hands scraped against his sensitive armor as they were dragged down his frame to grip his hips tightly, just in time for the medic to press their hips tightly together and just _grind_.

Deadlock could barely think even as he clenched his denta against the slight pain as the pressure inside the entrance of his valve grew. He shifted his hips in an attempt to relieve it but was quickly stopped by the grip on his hips tightening and the medic pushing their arrays even tighter together if that was even physically possible at this point.

A weak moan left Deadlock’s slack mouth as the pressure finally stopped, Primus, what was left of his processor briefly wondered if the medic actually had a knotting mod, and _knotted_ him. His legs were shaking so hard that the only thing keeping him from flattening onto the ground was the grip on his hips.

He let out another strangled noise as the blooming heat of transfluid filling his valve finally registered.

The medic was somehow able to lean over him, pressing his chassis to his back, and still keep a grip on his hips to keep him from collapsing and pulling on the knot.

A hot exvent blew over his finial, lips brushing against the sensitive metal as they moved down to brush against his cheek guard, and whispered two simple words into his audial.

_“Good boy.”_

Deadlock overloaded.


	4. Day 4: Fortress Maximus/Prowl - Valve Mod

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, warning time! **Please read this before continuing on.**
> 
> So as the new tags say: warnings for implied/referenced past non-con, not only during Fort Max's time at G-9 but throughout the war. Vagina denta is its own warning, but no harm comes to either of them on screen but is referenced about the damage that can and has happened to others.
> 
> I think that's it? If anyone thinks something else needs to be tagged or mentioned in the notes please let me know.

Prowl watched Fortress Maximus’s face instead of his codpiece as he opened his panel. The blush covering the larger mechs cheeks and nasal ridge was endearing oddly enough. He waited only a few kliks before looking down, an optic ridge rising when he didn’t see anything off, just the standard valve lips plumping with the charged up surge of energon all mechs with the standard interface experienced.

He looked up and waited.

Fort Max didn’t even glance at him, instead, he had raised a hand to cover part of his blushing face from view, “It’s not noticeable from _outside_. Y-you gotta look _in_.”

The stuttering was kind of cute coming from a mech like Fortress Maximus. He wasn’t much of a stutterer or a blusher. Prowl wasn’t going to say that to his face though.

Getting kicked once was good enough thank you very much.

Preferring _very much_ not to get kicked again, Prowl moved carefully, sliding his hands up Fort Max’s legs to the apex of his valve. He brushed his thumb against a small bead of lubricant starting to drip down and rubbed it along the flushed folds before using both thumbs and prying them open to look inside.

His optic ridges shot up and he had to cycle his optic through different settings in case he wasn’t seeing right. But no, he was indeed seeing what looked like _blades_ inlaid within Fort Max’s valve. Prowl watched as a bead of lubricant slid down and dropped off one of the blades.

“I _told_ you.”

Prowl scoffed at Fort Max, raising his optic to match the embarrassed glare aimed at him behind large servos. “Please, this is nothing. I’ve seen worse, and I’ve seen this mod and the damage it can do to a mech. Excellent choice.”

The sputtering that got him made Prowl smirk as he inched his thumb in to rub against the closest blade. It was interesting to see it quiver with the rippling of the valve walls.

Without moving his hands from their place, Prowl lowered himself to lay on the berth and shuffled forward to blow into the glistening valve. The Praxian watched the valve cycle down, slotting the blades together and creating such a beautiful destructive, and intimate attack.

Prowl had always found the mod an excellent decision for mechs to have installed with the knowledge that any mech foolish enough to force themselves on another with that mod would have a shredded spike or lose it entirely. Even _he_ had it installed and working throughout most of the war, until recently when he had deemed it safe to finally rid himself of it.

Having learned of the incident on G-9 Prowl wasn’t surprised to see that Fort Max had decided to get this mod. It was a hidden attack until a mech was at their most vulnerable.

And he knew exactly how to work around the dangerous blades.

Leaning forward he blew into the tank's wet valve, quirking a smile at the sharp intake that ended in a squeak. Prowl’s optic dimmed as he leaned even closer and dragged his glossa through the lubricant pooling at the bottom. He dragged his glossa up the sides, completely bypassing the blinking and swelling node at the top apex.

He continued holding Fort Max’s valve open as he laved attention on the outer rim, just barely brushing his glossa inside to swipe up the lubricant that was being produced more heavily now. He was enjoying the sounds the larger mech was making.

A sharp rev of Fort Max’s engine was the signal for Prowl to do what he had been working toward. Very carefully, he swiped his glossa against the base of one of the blades, right where it was connected to the valve wall.

Fort Max yelped, his twitching legs practically slamming closed against Prowl's helm at such a sudden sensation. “Wh-what are you _doing??_ ”

Prowl didn’t both pulling away very far to answer, “The base of the blades can be sensitive, especially when a mech is revved up enough. Now let me do this. I want to get you overloading on my face.”

“Prowl!”

Prowl just smirked before pressing his face fully against Fort Max’s valve. Due to their size difference, Prowl’s face was practically covered, from nasal ridge to chin, by Fort Max’s valve. It didn’t deter Prowl from eating the tank out.

He continued the motions from before he was distracted, paying close attention to each base of all the blades close to the outer rim. Even being unable to see exactly what he was doing with his mouth, Prowl was able to avoid the blades slicing his tongue each time Fort Max’s valve cycled down and sliding the blades together.

The noises he was ringing out were revving his own engine and it didn’t take long for his panels to slide open, lubricant and transfluid dripping to the floor now that his array was bared. Prowl didn’t bother trying to reach his array, grinding his spike as best as he could against the berth was good enough for him.

The ex-Enforcer’s attention was focused solely on the ex-prison warden.

Fort Max’s legs had crossed over to lay over his back, pressing him against the berth by sheer weight. He didn’t care about the weight, as long as they weren’t on his doorwings, it was fine.

And it allowed him to feel them slide, trembling thighs tightening as charge lept heavily from burning armor. Prowl pressed even _closer_ , if that was even possible, and rubbled his nasal ridge against the now swollen node blinking rapidly. He simultaneously pressed his glossa and rubbed harshly against the base of one of the blades.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Fort Max’s hand slammed onto his helm and kept his face pressed to his valve as his frame jerked and a high pitched noise escaped his vocalizer.

Prowl sputtered a big at the sudden flood of lubricant gushing against his face, but he was quick to swallow what flooded into his mouth. He waited for Fort Max to go slack, his hand sliding off his helm before sitting up and looking at the bigger mech.

His entire face was flushed now, and transfluid was sliding to puddle into the dip of his abdominal plating from his slouched position. Prowl’s optic landed on his first sight of the large spike already depressuring into its housing. He couldn’t help licking his lips, maybe he’ll get a chance at that piece of array next.

“Oh for — Primus, Prowl, your face!” Fort Max groaned, coving his face at the sight, but Prowl could see him peeking between his servos at the sight he knew he made.

Lubricant covering half his face and dripping steadily off his chin. Prowl kept what little optic contact he could with Fort Max as he grinned with a flash of denta, swiping his glossa across the mess decorating his face.

He let out a low rumbling laugh at the groan he got.


End file.
